Coach and I headed up to the northern suburbs late afternoon on Valentine's Day. I visited my favorite high school teacher for the 2nd week in a row. Not sure I've seen her since high school - making up for lost time. I brought my yearbook this time and we looked through it, reminiscing about the good old days. She asked about a few specific people, and I'm gonna reach out and urge those classmates to get in touch with her.
While I was hanging with Mrs. K, Coach visited his parents, who usually winter in South Carolina but skipped it this year because his dad had his hip replaced.
We met up at his folks' house where I feasted on chili in the thermos I packed. I'm a cheap date. Also, the food at the fundraiser we were heading to - chock full of gluten.
Next up: our former stomping grounds - our high school. I moved into my house (after living minutes from our current home in the western Chicago burbs) the DAY BEFORE freshman year started, knowing no one. My brother Pat, an 8th grader, became good friends with his classmate . . . Coach.
Coach's family lived down the street from our new house. His folks befriended my parents. I'd say the rest is history, but there's more to the story. Layers, people. LAYERS.
We live about an hour south of our high school, so we aren't in the hood often. It was wild to be back in the building. Aside from the new gym tacked onto the side, so much was the same. Coach got turned around after walking through the new gym into the OG gym and then into the school. It made me chuckle.
Coach: Wait, isn't that where we ate lunch? (pointing out the window from the lounge)
Me: What? That's the courtyard. Behind you - that's the cafeteria. Have you hit your head recently?
I saw a few people I graduated with, including one friend whose name is the same as my real name. A teacher once called on her, but I answered because same name and she was sitting diagonally behind me - the teacher said, "Is your name Ernie?" to which I answered in my best wiseass voice, seeing as what had happened, "Why yes, yes it is." The teacher died laughing. Ever since then, my friend and I have called one another Ernie-self, or Self for short.
Self brought her elderly mom (she's 90!), who used to teach in the school. About half of her 7 siblings were there too. Her sister was in charge of running the Irish Pub (every classroom is turned into a bar or a comedy club, etc.), so we made a beeline for the Irish Pub room. Not surprising, that was the hot spot.
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I wore my new red jacket with dark jeans - I took this on the Irish dancing stage in the basement while debating what shoes to wear. Sent my photos to Mini in Italy for her thoughts. |
We chatted with a few of BIL's friends and the one woman was lovely, making me wish not for the first time that we lived there and sent our kids to that school. She and I clicked. She wanted to know our dating backstory, etc. By the end of the night, she turned to Coach, "OK, I'm coming for Christmas. I'm like family now."
We packed a lot into that Friday, let me tell you. Coach says he was glad he went. I was glad he drove home, because it snowed A LOT of those big, heavy flakes while we were reliving the glory days.
I was reminded of a few high school stories that night . . . I'll share those next time.
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Do you have fond high school memories? A nickname for you or someone else that stuck? Keep in touch with anyone from that time? Anyone else consider themselves a cheap date?